Of Chocolate and Cigarettes
by Tsuki No Shuurai
Summary: A collection of drabbles featuring our favorite Wammy's boys, Matt and Mello.
1. Dreaming

"_Everybody here comes from somewhere_

_That they would just as soon forget or disguise."R.E.M._

**Dreaming**

_In his mind, the memory that haunts his nightmares is blurry, indistinct, more an image of emotion than anything else. There is horror, and fear, and the metallic taste of blood, a knife flashing silver in the darkness, then ruby as the light strikes it. The man is tall and thin, and his mouth is twisted cruelly as he laughs._

_Mihael is sobbing, unable to speak beyond the choked pleas. "Mutter, no, oh no please, Mutter, Mutter…wake up, don't leave me, please…"_

"Mello, wake up, come on…."

"_Mutter," he whimpers, utterly helpless in the face of the death that clouds his mother's face._

"Mels! Come on, it's just a dream. It's Matt, remember?"

Slowly, Mihael opens his eyes. Someone has turned on the lamps in the room he lies in—_his _room, he realizes as he sees the new boy hanging over him, concern etched on his face, eyes wide behind his goggle-like glasses. He blinks, feels the sting of tears as that other facet of himself, the strong one, the one who's _going _to be L someday, no matter how much he loves his mentor or how easily Near can beat him, takes over. _Mello._

"Mello, are you…all right?" Matt asks, awkwardly. He's unused to this Mello, this fearful creature whose hands are wrapped around his pillowcase as though to strangle it, still fighting the demons from his head.

Mello looks at him, his blue eyes unfocussed. "Yeah," he says, after a minute. He's speaking English, but his German accent is there, stronger than Matt has ever heard it. Mello generally has a natural gift for languages, and for the two weeks Matt has known him, he's flipped easily from language to language, with perfect grammar and pronunciation. "Just…had a nightmare."

Matt stands there for a few more minutes, until Mello says, "I'm fine, Matt. Go back to bed." His accent is softer, now, slipping back into his default British. "Really."

"Okay." Matt hesitates, then turns out the lamps and crawls back into bed.

Silence settles over the room.

"Matt?" Mello's voice is almost too soft to hear.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

He doesn't have to say what for.

**A/N: Yes, more Death Note fanfiction. What can I say? :shrug: Inspiration is a wild and untamed creature.**

**I do not own Death Note, Matt, or Mello. If I did, they would NOT be dead. I don't own the quote at the beginning either—that can be credited to the genius of Michael Stipe and the rest of R.E.M. So don't sue me!**

**Mello and Matt are maybe ten years old here, in case you were all wondering. **


	2. Acceptance

**Acceptance**

Nobody ever wanted Mail.

He was skinny and weedy, with a shock of red hair and poor eyesight. Whenever they lined the orphans up and let people from outside come to survey them for adoption, Mail was the one that was always passed over, usually for a younger, cuter, slightly healthier looking boy or girl. He took to ignoring everybody during his time in line, and that suited everyone well enough.

Until L came along.

He had been standing in line as usual, eyes half-lidded, wishing that this ordeal would be _over_ so that he could sneak out and walk to the library half a mile away, where they had better computers than the single old dinosaur that the orphanage had in their tiny library. He hadn't even paid any attention to the whispers that had begun to spread as L made his way slowly down the line, until the man was standing right in front of him.

"What about this one?" he asked the woman on duty, his voice devoid of emotion or accent. Mail didn't look up. The man couldn't be referring to him.

"Oh, he's got some issues, sir," the woman said. "He hardly speaks to anyone."

Mail looked up in time to see L give the woman a cold look. "What is his name, Miss Bates?"

"Mail Jeevas," Miss Bates responded. "Left on our doorstep when he was hardly six months old, the poor thing. We did try to look up the name, but--" she shrugged. "No one's ever come forward to claim him."

"Hmm…" L said his eyes emotionless. Even with Mail's blurry vision, he could see that the man was odd, with his rail-like body, wide eyes, and shock of unruly black hair. He looked to be in his teens, maybe twenties. _Surely he's too young to be adopting. What is he here for?_

"Mail?" L's voice jerked Mail out of his reverie as the older boy extended a hand awkwardly. "I'm Ryuzaki. I've come to see about adopting you."

Mail stared at the hand for a moment, then reached out and took it. The fingernails were bitten to the quick, and L flinched when their fingers touched, but Mail did not let go. He never wanted to let go, even though he didn't know this man—boy—whatever at all. L tried unsuccessfully to extricate his hand from Mail's grip, but Mail held on doggedly, unwilling to let the one person who had ever expressed any interest in him whatsoever go.

x-X-x

What happened after the adoption went through, Matt could never remember very clearly. Those days passed in a whirl of happiness, far too profound to be properly recorded. He did remember that L had gotten him his glasses, the day before he arrived at Wammy's House, and suddenly, with a 6.50 in each eye, Mail could see truly clearly for the first time in his life. He remembered Watari showing him about the facilities, remembered drifting between shelves in the enormous library, and remembered his delight at the computer bank that had only recently been put in. He remembered seeing L a few times more, in between his work on a local case, remembered his astonishment at hearing that the boy was just five years older than Mail himself. The idea that, in five years, Mail could have been solving cases of his own was mindboggling. He remembered being fed a decent meal, warm and enough to go around, while the orphaned genii around him chattered in every language from English to Japanese.

But most of all, Matt remembered the tall blonde boy with the devilish smile, who tugged him into a game of Truth or Dare when he would have gladly hid in the corner the whole time, remembered being introduced to everyone else in the circle before he finally got the blonde's name.

"I'm Mello," he said. "You're my new roommate."

"I'm Ma—Matt," Matt had said, almost using his old name.

Mello had given him another brilliant smile and said, "You'll get used to it. Everybody does in the end. And besides, you've got me. I'll have you up to scratch in no time.

"Now, Matt, Truth or Dare?"

**A/N—Probably not as good as some of my work, as I wrote this to try and get out of the deep dark abyss of writer's block…anyway, please R& R!**


	3. Talk

**A/N: I know this is short, but I wanted to update **_**something **_**on Halloween, since I'm putting all my fics on hold for NaNoWriMo. And it's L's birthday! :huggles:**

**Thanks afaz and for reviewing. Reviews make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside XD.**

**Talk**

"L?" There was a tentative knock on the door.

L sighed and put his laptop away. _I really must find a new case to work on soon, _he thought. _I'm bored out of my mind. _Of course, the last case he had worked on had been particularly unsavory, and he was supposed to be enjoying a well-earned break. "Yes, Watari, what is it?"

The door opened and the old man walked in. "I think you should have a…talk with Mello," he said in his gentle way.

"What did he do this time? Nothing I ever say will make him and Near get along…."

"No, it's not that." Watari looked distinctly uncomfortable. "It's…something else."

"What?"

"Mello seems to have gotten in his head that he is going to be married….."

L shook his head. "At seven years old? Mello's maybe a little too precocious…"

"To Matt."

It took a second for the words to sink in.

"Oh," L said, after this pregnant pause. "Now I see what you mean."


End file.
